


Written On Your Skin

by LaLainaJ



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Witch!Caroline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4745351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a rather boring day, at the flower shop Caroline owns. And then The Original Hybrid walks in, and changes her life by uttering a few small words. They're words Caroline knows, words she sees on her skin, every day in the mirror. She's thought about her soulmate, who wouldn't have? But he's the last thing she ever would have expected, and the last person she should want. But she can't quite bring herself to deny their connection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Written On Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venomandchampagne (sushibunny)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushibunny/gifts).



> As soon as I say 'Soulmate Trope' my brain went YAS! It's one I adore, and I was so excited for an excuse to write it. And then this monster fic happened. Big thanks to my lovely betas (who I won't name, in case it outs me!) for helping me wrangle this thing! Your suggestions was invaluable. And this was also inspired by something I came across perusing goldcaught's 'Melissa's ficcish hopes and dreams' tag on tumblr. Beware the plot bunnies, writer friends, and scroll at your own risk! Hope everyone enjoys!

Caroline’s tired, and debating closing the shop for a couple of minutes, and running across the street for something stronger that the medium roast k-cups she’s been sucking back all morning. The small community of witches in Atlanta that had become something of an extended family, mostly consisting of crazy aunts and stoner cousins, since she’d moved in with Nana Forbes at sixteen, was in an uproar.

Trouble had come to their city, and all the covens were on high alert. Klaus Mikaelson had come to town. Caroline had been a tiny bit lost, when everyone else had been gasping and bursting with questions, having only heard the name in passing. But stories, second and third hand, had soon come pouring out. It seems he'd begun poking around, asking questions. He’d been amiable enough and there’d been no casualties to his temper. But his motives were suspect, and his wants unknown. No one had dared to ask for a straight answer, so they were bracing for the worst.

There’d been a meeting last night, at the rare books store her coven’s current elder owned, the atmosphere in the homey shop fraught, and everyone in attendance on edge. Caroline had felt uncomfortable, reading the lines of tension, the hints of fear, in the faces of people she liked and respected.

Caroline had been made to memorize a blurry photo. No one thought she’d be on his radar, the diminished power of the once legendary Forbes line was well known. Her father could only manage the simplest of spells, and had chosen not to participate in the coven. He lived happily away from witch matters, in a suburb of the city, with his husband and teenage stepdaughter. Caroline visited once a month for dinner.

Nor was she famous, in witchy circles, partly due to her late start at magic, and partly due to Nana Forbes’ generally crotchety demeanor. She was one of those old women who didn’t mince words, preferred plants to people, and Caroline thought she took a certain amount of joy from being thought terrifying. Everyone had told Caroline that it was just a precaution, her learning The Hybrid’s face. She’d likely never even meet him, she was assured.

Oh, how wrong they’d been.

She pastes a smile on her face, when the bell above the door chimes, happy for the distraction from her troubled thoughts. She likes to play a little game, to pass the time, and try to guess what a customer will be after. Apology bouquet? Just-because-I-love-you flowers?  Mama’s boy? She’s uncannily accurate.

Her Nana says it’s her intuition, that the gift of premonition pops up in Forbes witches, from time to time. Caroline’s pretty sure that particular gift has passed her by, that she’s just observant, can read the faint tinge of guilt or the glow of someone in love.

She’s never been surer that she lacks psychic powers. Because any useful sort of intuition would have been able to tell Caroline that her life was about to change?

The person walking in is definitely not a customer looking for a dozen roses and Caroline’s smile freezes. She sees the features she’d studied last night, from an image taken discretely with a smartphone camera, now sharp and in Technicolor, in her flower shop. Caroline’s grip on her cup tightens, and she can feel her eyes widening, as she fights not to let it be obvious that she knows exactly who he is. The description she’d been given rings through her head, “Magnetically attractive, but don’t let that sway you, dear. He’ll be dressed down in dark colors. Walks into a room like he owns it. Pretty blue eyes, dimples, charisma for days.”

All accurate, and yet somehow not enough. She’d take a second look at this man, probably a third, if he’d walked past her on the street.

Beauty was a tricky bitch.

She wants to tell him to get out, wants to flick her wrist and fling him through the windows that line the front of her shop. She grits her teeth, and takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to marshal her emotions. And her magic. She can feel it, crawling through her body, itching for a release.

It’s a petty thought, one she pushes away quickly. As satisfying as the mental image is she knows there’s no point. The physical pain it would cause him would be brief. He’d heal and she suspects it would barely faze him. Might even anger him, and Caroline thinks it’s best to avoid that. At least until she has a better idea of what he wants.

Plus it would be really expensive to fix the damage. She’s pretty sure her insurance won’t cover rage-magic brought on my insufferable hybrids.

He’s glancing around the shop, paying Caroline no mind, long fingers occasionally reaching out to brush a leaf or a petal. He’s gentle, doesn’t break or mar anything, his touch light and delicate, like he appreciates the beauty of the things in his grasp. Like he’s not the sort to leave misery and chaos in his wake.

Like he’s not currently disrupting her neat and tidy, if a little dull, life, because of a random whim he won’t disclose.

When he finally turns towards her, he smirks, likely reading her expression, which she knows has turned hard and unwelcoming, as her irritation had grown. Caroline’s about to open her mouth, to demand that he leave, instructions to be cautious forgotten, but he beats her to it.

“Let’s not be hasty, sweetheart,” he murmurs cajolingly, his eyes bright with challenge. But Caroline barely registers those things, because she feels like she can’t breathe.

She feels like she might never breathe again.

Because he’d said the words.

The words she’d looked at every day of her life.

If she’d been thinking, she would have kept her mouth shut, would have remembered that he’d have a mark too. But Caroline had never been much for filtering, and he’s coming closer, moving with an easy grace that hides how lethal she'd been told he is. She just needs him to stop, to keep his distance. So when she snaps a reply it’s acidic, “Do you want your brain liquefied? Because I can do that.”

His eyes go wide, his jaw a little slack. But at least his forward momentum halts. Caroline feels sick to her stomach, but a little twinge of glee flashes through her, at catching the great and powerful Klaus Mikaelson off guard.

She’d bet few people had lived long enough to brag about such a thing.

And Caroline really, really hopes that she’ll be able to.

He recovers quickly, his eyes becoming even more calculating as they rake over all the bits of her he can see. And when he speaks again his tone is honey sweet and designed to entice, “Why don’t you tell me you name, love? Since I believe we have more to discuss than I'd ever anticipated.”

 

* * *

 

It's a ploy, an attempt to put her at ease, because Klaus knows who she is. Though he doesn’t know nearly as much as he’d like about Caroline Forbes otherwise. He’d only first heard her name when he’d arrived in the city. A Forbes, more powerful than any had been for generations, it had been claimed. Kol’s witch contacts, whether they were incompetent or merely uninformed, had said that William Forbes was the last of his line, so Klaus had been wary. He’d taken a bit of a gamble, in coming to her directly, having incomplete intel. But what could one young witch possibly do to him?

She's not attempted to harm him, though he senses she's willing to make good on her threats, by the way she's watching his movements, her body mirroring his.  But she has managed to shock him, and he’s still processing what it means, that she’d spoken the words he’d found written on his skin, nearly three centuries ago. From the way her heartbeat had sped, after he’d initially spoken, she’s not completely ignorant about the marks and their significance.

Klaus had met people, in various places, who had been completely in the dark. Some were Forbes with no idea about their heritage. Understandable, since family trees tended to expand, and sometimes branches fell off. And then there were the people who had no connection to the bothersome witch who’d started it all and were simply born with writing on their skin that no one could explain, and had no way of knowing that it connected them to another person.

He takes a second to study Caroline, while she tries to gather her composure. She’s a pretty thing, this woman that fate has decided should be his. All blonde curls and creamy skin, surrounded by colors and light. And smart, if the guarded looks she’s shooting him are any indication. He’d been less than subtle in his inquiries, and she evidently is fully aware of who he is. She can’t know what he’s after, because he’d kept those cards carefully concealed.

He’s come here for her, because she’s purported to be incredibly powerful. He’d hoped to entice her into helping him. For all that witches proclaimed to loath him, he’d often found that he could sway them, once he found the correct trigger. Greed worked well, as did lust (sometimes for him, sometimes for power).  Additionally she was said to be in possession of a grimoire Klaus needs, that they’ve spent a year tracking, if he has any hope of returning Kol to his original body.

But things have gone in a direction that Klaus hadn’t anticipated.

He’d always assumed that, should a person ever utter the words that had appeared on his back, almost three centuries ago, that he’d simply kill them and be done with it. The idea that he had a soulmate had always been both ridiculous and vaguely repellant to Klaus. It sounded like a nuisance, and a liability.

But this girl? This girl might be more useful than not. A witch in his pocket, one who’d be loyal to him? Klaus has to admit that idea held some appeal, and she was not without considerable physical charms.

He takes slow, measured steps forward, offers her a smile, “My name is Klaus, but it seems you’ve heard of me. And you must be Caroline. A pleasure.”

Her eyes narrow suspiciously, “If you knew my name, why did you ask for it?”

“Politeness? I do like to make an effort. Occasionally.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard,” she shoots back, edging away. “I’ve heard you’re more of a torture first ask questions later kind of guy. And I just bought these shoes, so you’ll excuse me if I’d rather not get them bloody.”

“Guilty,” Klaus replies, even as he grins at her morbid joke. There’s bravery there, a steel spine and a sharp tongue. It’s intriguing.  And she’s not wrong, and he’s not the least bit ashamed of it. “But you must realize that you’re a special case, Caroline. Tell me, where’s your mark?”

She freezes, but then feigns confusion, “Mark? What mark?”

She’s a decent enough actress. The wide, innocent eyes would probably be effective, on just about anyone else. But people with far more life experience have tried, and failed, to lie to Klaus. “The soulmate mark, love. Take a minute to imagine my surprise, when it appeared. When the lovely Italian courtesan I’d spent the evening with, asked me what the writing on my back meant. My body had remained unchanged, for seven centuries. I was most displeased.”

An understatement. But mentioning the death of several unhelpful witches, at his hands, while he’d tried to find a reason for the words’ mysterious appearance, seemed like a bad idea, at this juncture.

Witches had a tendency to object to things like that.

“It took me ages to find even a hint of helpful information, and by the time I tracked down the witch who cast the spell she’d already died. What was her name…” Klaus trails off, looks to Caroline expectantly, planting his elbow on the counter. Her lips are pressed in a tight line, and her posture is tense. Klaus clucks his tongue, “Don’t play coy. I’ve had the words you just spoke to me written on my skin for centuries. And I don’t believe in coincidence.”

She tries again, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Klaus sighs, shakes his head in mock disappointment, “I’ve met a few people, with the marks, over the years. They’re never in the same place. I’ve encountered one or two people from your family tree, others who just thought it was the strangest of birthmarks, or who tried to pass it off as a silly tattoo. But it feels different, you see. Will you shiver, when I brush my fingers over yours?”

There’s a slight pinkness, creeping up her neck, though she doesn’t let any embarrassment show, tilting her chin and narrowing her eyes warningly. Klaus drums his fingers on the counter, content to wait her out. He’s not going anywhere, and she seems to realize that.

“Anabelle,” she answers his earlier question, with an aggravated huff, though he’d known the name all along. “She never married, out of sheer obstinacy, or so the story goes. Pined for the magistrate’s son until the very end.”

“And destroyed any trace of the making of her spell, or so I was told. No witch ever managed to break it, and I had many try.” He suspects a few had been interested in attempting to duplicate it too, had found the whole thing romantic. Those hadn’t lasted long in Klaus' employ, obviously.

He watches her take a deep breath, and straighten to her full height, “Are you here to kill me?" she asks, "I won't make it easy."

He likes the fire in her, the refusal to cower. Most in her position would be snivelling, right about now. But her voice doesn't waver, and she doesn't shy away from his gaze. “Do you really think that low of me?” Klaus asks, raising an eyebrow, genuinely curious about the answer.

“Yes,” she spits.

He can’t help but laugh, pleased by her honesty, and charmed by the venom. Caroline Forbes doesn’t like him, not at all. And Klaus has always enjoyed a challenge.

 

* * *

 

She bristles at the low, rich sound of mirth, unable to help herself. Caroline has often cursed her ancestor, and the spell she’d created. But never so vehemently, or with such colorful vocabulary, as she did in that moment. Because dear, great-great whatever, Aunt Anabelle had kind of severely screwed with her life.

And all because she’d turned to magic, in a fit of teenage pique (and Caroline had had plenty of that, so maybe she should have more sympathy, but she found herself in short supply). She’d set out to prove that the boy her parents refused to consider a match with was her soulmate. Anabelle had been wrong, blinded by hormones, Caroline assumed. But she’d been a witch of great, untrained, power. The spell she’d invented had endured. Every person that was related to Anabelle, that shared even the tiniest drop of her blood, and every one of those individual's soulmates, from that day forward, was marked with words.

The soulmate marks were the Forbes' legacy and Nana Forbes was forever chasing off curious witches, who wanted the opportunity to pour through Anabelle's grimoires. Each so certain that there must have been a clue left behind, and that they’d be the one to find it.

The spell was diabolically simple: when a person said the words written on your skin to you, you knew they were your soulmate. The fact that the words existed at all, meant that they were out there, which was maddening, all on its own.

It was probably super confusing for random humans, who happened to be fated for a witch, and Caroline had always kind of felt bad for them.

Her own mark, written just under her ribcage, in a neat script, had been the first words she’d learned to read.

And she’d just heard them, out of the mouth of Klaus Mikaelson, whose evil deeds were terrible and numerous, from what Caroline had heard last night. She was tempted to look into resurrecting good old Anabelle, just to murder her slowly and painfully.

She’d imagined hundreds of scenarios in which she’d hear the words, thought of them spoken by all sorts of different people. Caroline liked romantic comedies, and happily ever after’s. The idea of a soulmate was enthralling, to her not so secret romantic streak. She’d thought about how she’d meet him often. In quiet moments, trying to drift to sleep. When she needed a distraction. When she felt stressed, or anxious, or just needed a happy place. But she’d never thought to imagine them in that accent, oozing the kind of self-assurance that most men could only try to fake.

She’d known it was silly and, especially as she got older, and a little more jaded, known that it was a waste of time to even think about. Caroline could admit (intellectually, at least) that the odds of her meeting her soulmate, when there were billions upon billions of people in the world, were astronomically bad. But there’s little room in fantasy for cold hard facts.

So Caroline had never been able to help herself, when the ideas drifted to the forefront of her mind. She’d often been too much, for the people she’d dated. Too intense, too driven, too outspoken. The idea that there was someone out there, who could love the parts of her that other people tried to smother? Awfully appealing.

Her parents had tried to dissuade her, as practical as they tended to be. Her father had married her mother despite the fact that his skin was marked with words she’d never spoken. He’d been nearly forty when they’d met, and tired of waiting for someone who he may never meet. Her mother had been skeptical enough about the existence of witches and thought the whole soulmate concept especially preposterous. The idea that there was just one person that you were meant to be with? Too far-fetched for Liz to believe.

And then Bill had met Steven, at the age of 49.

Steven had said the words. The words that Liz had read a thousand times on her husband's arm, shaking her beliefs. But Liz had managed to be happy for Bill, their marriage having been more friendship than romance for years, and they’d divorced peacefully enough.

And then Liz's view of the world had been rocked again, when she had become Sheriff, privy to the secrets that The Founding Families of Mystic Falls kept. Soulmates didn't seem so impossible when there was so much more out there than just witches.

Caroline had been left in the dark, for the most part, about the existence of monsters. And Liz had often gently cautioned her daughter, when she caught Caroline with a particular dreamy look. The chances weren’t good, she reminded Caroline. Find someone who makes you happy, she’d instructed. Make your own destiny.

It had helped that Caroline had been something of a late bloomer, magic wise. Her apparent ordinariness fueling her mother’s hopes that she’d live a normal, stable life. It had looked like Caroline would take after Bill, barely powerful enough for silly parlor tricks. And then she’d started a small forest fire, storming home through the woods after a fight with her old best friend Elena.

Not Caroline’s finest moment. But she’d only panicked for a second, and had managed to pull the flames back, before they caused much damage. She’d meant to ignore the incident, not willing to admit to something so freakish. But her mom had come home the next day, complaining about irresponsible kids and bonfires and extra patrols. Caroline had cracked and confessed.

Liz had been silent for a long time. Had looked more lost that Caroline had ever seen her. She'd told Caroline that she was proud of her, for coming forward, and being honest. And then Liz had called Bill.

Her parents had agreed that Caroline needed to learn control, which had led to Caroline getting packed off to live with Nana Forbes in Atlanta. She’d resented her mother for months, refusing phone calls and sitting, sullen and hostile, through visits. She’d been planning on being cheer captain, and Miss Mystic Falls and her mother had taken that from her.

Nana Forbes, however, had little patience for teenage mood swings. She’d expected a lot from Caroline, both at school, and at home. Had worked with Caroline to help her explore her abilities, had maintained that Liz had been right, that Caroline’s powers needed honing and since Liz was human, and happily average, that sending her daughter to someone who could guide her talents was the best thing.

Grudgingly, Caroline had come to see their point. She’d adjusted, made new friends. Had a few mishaps, with her powers, but Nana had always brushed them off, assured Caroline that every witch had them, and helped Caroline clean up whatever mess she'd made without complaint or judgement. Her nagging fears about failure eased and her confidence grew. Simple spells became second nature (a habit she'd found hard to break, when she went away to college. Caroline might have had to convince her freshman dorm mate that their room was haunted, to cover up occasional slips) and she dived into learning more complex magic. Her confidence grew, and Caroline realized that the nagging feelings she'd always had, her insecurities and neuroses, about how she didn't quite fit, were because she'd always felt different, but hadn't understood why.

Learning witchcraft, meeting others who were like her, was a relief.

And there were definitely practical benefits to a big city over a small town. The shopping, the million things to do. She’d already conversed with every boy in Mystic Falls, she’d joked over the dinner table one evening, and had been less than impressed. Maybe her soulmate was hiding somewhere in Atlanta?

She’d been surprised to find that Nana was also on Team Soulmates Aren’t Everything. Nana Forbes didn’t have a mark, and her grandfather had never found his soulmate, but they had loved each other deeply, had no regrets about the life they’d built together. “Don’t put your life on hold,” she’d told Caroline. “You might miss someone amazing.”

And Caroline had tried, she honestly had. She’d dated, had some fantastic boyfriends (and some that weren’t exactly winners, but then who didn’t have a terrible ex or two?) had even been a step away from engaged once. But things had never quite clicked.

It was so easy to sabotage a relationship, when you knew your soulmate was out there. That at any moment, a person could come into your world, and say a few words, and change your life forever.

And after every breakup, first over cookie dough and ice cream, later over wine (and okay fine, still ice cream) Caroline had mentally berated Anabelle, hoping that the witch could hear her, somewhere, somehow.

But the words she’d used then were nothing compared to the mental raging she was doing now. Because, miracle of miracles, she’d met her soulmate. Only to find out that he was the most dangerous, ruthless creature currently walking the planet.

What, exactly, was Caroline supposed to do with that?

 

* * *

 

Caroline shakes herself, realizes that she’d been staring into space, while trying to get her thoughts in order. Stupid, when in such dangerous company.

But he seems content to wait for her attention. She meets his eyes for a moment, and the expression on his face thrills her, _terrifies_ her. There’s a spark of interest there, hot and intent, focused on her.

She is in so much trouble.

Caroline tucks her hands behind her back, so he can’t see her knuckles turn white where they’re clutching the fabric of her skirt, and forces a polite smile, “You never did tell me how you knew my name.”

He straightens, gives her a dimpled smile that she would bet gets panties thrown in his direction on the regular (from poor girls who end the night as unwilling blood donors, Caroline reminds herself) and says, “Right. Your abilities have been spoken of in only the most glowing of terms, love. I found myself in need of a witch, and you come highly recommended.”

Ugh. She’s going to have to track down who sold her out. There will be words. Possibly vengeance spells. She’ll see how much she likes the offender before she decides.

“Well,” Caroline begins, “as much as I’d love to help you out, I’m afraid I’m just swamped.” It’s a big fat lie, and from the way he’s looking around her shop, vacant save for the two of them, it’s not one he’s fooled by. “It’ll pick up later,” she can’t help but add defensively.

“Well then. Perhaps if I purchased something? Would you be able to make time in your busy schedule for me then, Caroline?”

Caroline’s unable to hold back the derisive snort that emerges, “You? Want to buy flowers?"

He grins, “I thought you’d never ask.” Klaus makes a considering hum, then a show of scanning the blooms on display. “The Helios roses, I think. Some freesias. And some of those ferns.”

He has better taste than the vast majority of men who stroll through her doors, she will give him that. She doesn’t comment, gathers the flowers he’d requested, laying them out to be trimmed and arranged. He shifts over and watches her work. Caroline does her best to keep her hands from shaking.

“Tell me something about yourself. Since you seem to have heard tales, and have me at a disadvantage.”

Caroline darts a quick look up at him, and he meets her gaze steadily, until she tears hers away again. “Because I know things about you, you mean? That’s your own fault, you know. Everyone heard about that kerfuffle in New Orleans. Witches are a chatty bunch."

“Yes, well. The need to live in shadows and secrecy died with my father.”

“And then there was that whole supernatural Maury show that went down,” she continues, and chances another look at him, finds his head tipped to the side in mild confusion. Of course he’d be too high-brow for trashy daytime TV. “You know, ‘Take a Paternity Test! My Baby Needs a Daddy!’ That was an actual show, FYI. They never did find out who the father was.” Much like Klaus’ own situation, where from what Caroline had heard, the werewolf who’d claimed Klaus had knocked her up had been run out of New Orleans, and no one had heard a peep from her since.

Even money said she was dead.

“Riveting,” Klaus remarks dryly. “I’ll add ‘likes brain rotting television’ and ‘is a shameless gossip’ to the list of things I know about you.”

“The list you’re pretending is practically empty?” She lets her disbelief bleed through. Because from what she knows of him, what she senses, from his watchful gaze, Klaus doesn’t walk into situations blindly. She’s completely sure that he knows more about her than he’s letting on.

“I find I know less than I would like, sweetheart. I know that you took over this shop from your grandmother, who is by all accounts a holy terror. I know you went to university in Texas, and have a business degree. You’ve been talking to banks about getting a loan to expand. You showed up as a teen, took to magic in leaps and bounds. But no one seems to know much about where you come from. Your father’s around, but your mother's never been spotted. I assume she’s not a witch? That she perhaps disproves of your abilities?”

Caroline debates responding, for a few moments, unsure of how much personal information she wants him to have about her. “Yes to the first part. Not really to the second.”

She doesn’t offer more, and he surprisingly doesn’t push. She wraps the flowers in paper, and slides them across the counter towards him, quotes a price (and yeah, she’s gouging him a little, but he can afford it) clearly dismissing him. He lifts a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking like he’s trying not to smile, as he pulls out his wallet.

“You know I’ll be back, Caroline. We still need to discuss the marks. Not to mention the business I’m looking for your assistance with.”

“I think I’m going to live in denial, for a little bit.”

He signs the slip she hands him, with an amused noise, and turns to go, leaving the bouquet behind. Caroline stares down at it in confusion, before calling, “Wait! You forgot your flowers!”

He pauses, and his expression is something close to fond, “I did not, love. Once upon a time flowers had meaning. They’re for you. Enjoy your day.”

He slips out the door, leaving her gaping after him. She resists temptation, for approximately thirteen seconds, before she’s racing for the backroom and the dusty books about the language of flowers she’s sure are there somewhere.

 

* * *

 

Klaus’ first order of business, when he returns to his hotel, is to compel himself a room upgrade. This trip had been last minute, and so he’d not cared overly much about where he’d sleep for a night or two. But it seemed as though he’d be in Atlanta for longer than he’d anticipated, so he might as well get comfortable.

He then pours himself a drink and sprawls on a chair, pulling out his phone, and dialing Elijah’s number.

“Niklaus,” Elijah greets, “I did not expect to hear from you so soon. Have you been successful, already?”

“I have not,” Klaus admits, swirling the liquor before knocking it back, “There’s been a complication, and I’ll need you to look after things in The Quarter.”

“A complication?” Elijah asks, and it’s only a thousand years of knowing his brother that allows Klaus to hear the faint bit of worry.

There’s a shuffling noise, muffled voices, and then the phone is dropped. Klaus rolls his eyes to the ceiling, and then it’s Kol on the line, “A complication? What kind of complication? Nik, I’m not getting any younger here. Quite literally. I found a grey hair. And not on my head.”

“You’re the one who wanted to wait, play around with witchcraft, Kol. I thought we should get you back into your body ages ago. Besides, your host isn’t even thirty. You’re hardly running from the cold embrace of death, especially these days.”

“What if I get hit by a bus? Witches are just humans. Squishy and easy to kill. We both know that.”

“You’ve been drinking blood, like we agreed, have you not?” It had been one of the conditions Klaus had set, when he’d agreed to allow Kol to remain a witch, at least for a while. He empathized a bit, having had his werewolf side locked away without his consent. Kol had taken to vampirism, had relished it, more than the rest of them. Klaus hadn’t ever really considered what he’d lost, when magic had been taken away. He’d spent centuries, trying to become a hybrid. Could he really begrudge his brother a few years of practicing magic?

The affirmative Kol mumbles is grudging, “Well, there you have it. If you die in some silly, mortal way you’ll simply turn. But try to look both ways before crossing the street, yes?”

“Oh, ha ha. No one who’s not afraid of you actually thinks you’re funny. What’s this complication? Old lady Forbes tougher than she seems?”

“Old Lady Forbes is said to be in Arizona, at the moment. She’s retired.”

“Hmm. My contact in Atlanta didn’t mention that. Then it’s the son giving you trouble? I was told he’s basically a squib, whatever that means. Just kill him and steal the grimoires, brother.”

“No, he’s not around either. I’m told he travels often, for his job. He has a daughter though, Caroline.”

Klaus winces as he says the name, because he knows he’d not been neutral enough. And when Kol speaks again his voice is dripping with derision, “Please tell me you’re not sniffing after some witch. Now, I met a Forbes or two on my travels, and they were all tasty little things, so I see the appeal. But you cannot be that desperate. Your latest paramour is a shrieker and I was assaulted her dulcet tones not three days before you left.”

“And think of how much worse it would have been,” Klaus tells Kol lightly, “had you a vampire’s senses.”

“Nik,” Kol nearly growls into the phone, his annoyance clear.

“I know, Kol. I gave you my word that you’d be in your own body before the year is out, and I will keep my promise. Caroline Forbes is said to be capable of great things, with her magic. I believe I can convince her to help us, and provide the spells needed.”

His siblings don’t need to hear about the soulmate marks, just yet. That the one he’d born for years matches him to her. He’d never get anything done, should they find out. He rather thinks Bekah would be on the next plane out, just to be a nuisance.

“Fine,” Kol says, “but don’t think with your cock, Nik. Pretty witches aren’t hard to find, trust me.”

Klaus resists commenting on that, though he finds Kol's crassness annoying. “Could I speak to Elijah now that you’ve lodged your complaints?”

“Yeah. He’s glaring at me. I might have broken his phone when I dropped it. Whoops. Whose moronic idea was to make these things so delicate?”

Kol’s words got fainter, as Klaus presumed Elijah snatched the phone back and put some distance between himself and Kol, “How long will you be away?” Elijah asks, and Klaus appreciates his willingness to get to the point.

“I’m not entirely sure. I’ll trust you’ll handle things in my absence? Keep me informed?”

“Of course,” Elijah replies immediately. It’s something Klaus has asked of him more than once, especially in these last two years. He enjoyed being king, but New Orleans was small, and Klaus was unaccustomed to standing still.

“I’ll also need the number of one of your associates. The one who dug up all those delightful skeletons that allowed us to subdue The Human Faction.”

Because he itched to know more about Caroline Forbes, and she’d proven to be reluctant to provide him with anything about her early life. Not that Klaus could quite blame her. He did have a bit of an unsavory reputation. He should have spent the drive back to the hotel making plans, developing strategies on how he was going to woo Caroline Forbes, have her power and her family heirlooms, at his disposal. But instead he’d pondered the idea of soulmates, not something he’d ever dwelled on before. What was it about Caroline that made her a match for him? Why her, why now? He’s curious, and he’s never been one to let curiosities go unsatisfied. Klaus wanted to dig deeper, crack that veneer of calm she’d worn like armour and see everything she had held back from him.

He’d ended up sparing few thoughts for Kol. The entire reason he’d come to Atlanta, had faded away, as he’d replayed his conversation with Caroline, analyzed her reactions. Highly unlike himself, Klaus knew, to not put the plan first. But he finds that he doesn’t want Caroline to loathe him, as she surely will, should he attempt to force her loyalty, by his usual means.

Elijah’s still speaking, and Klaus does hope he’s not missed anything important, “I’ll text you his phone number immediately. You’ll let me know if you need further assistance, Niklaus?”

“Of course, brother. I’ll speak to you in a few days.”

Elijah bids him goodbye, and Klaus hangs up. A text notification chimes a few seconds later and Klaus allows himself a smile at Elijah’s predictable reliability. He makes the call, provides Caroline’s name, her father’s and grandmother’s. Offers an exorbitant amount of money for speed and is assured that he’ll have information within a few hours.

It’s so much easier when people react as he expects them too, Klaus thinks. Though perhaps it does get a little boring. He casts his mind to Caroline, wonders if she’s even now pouring over the meaning of the bouquet he’d selected for her, and what she’ll think of it. He considers their next meeting, how soon he can arrange it, and how it will go. He’s certain that at least a little part of her Caroline be pleased, with the gesture. Klaus had noted the careful way she’d selected the flowers, the caution with which she’d prepared them. She likes what she does, that much had been obvious, and people with passions had always interested Klaus. But he’d also bet she’d fight any trace of happiness she's felt because of his gift, just as she’ll fight him, and any similar feelings he manages to stir in her.

But Klaus is used to long games, and he’s already plotting his next move. He quite certain that getting to know Caroline Forbes, all of her quirks and virtues and vices, will be the most fun he's had in ages.

 

* * *

 

Fascination. Innocence (yeah right!) and friendship. Sincerity.

She’d brought the books out, pulled up a stool. No one has come in, thankfully. Because Caroline’s pretty sure glaring at a perfectly innocuous bunch of flowers (and okay, she’d caved and fetched a vase. Was it a crime to appreciate your own work? She didn’t think so) like it was going to turn into a deadly snake at any second is a little on the crazy side.

And it’s not like she can explain why they’re freaking her out. A person off the street, or one of her human friends, would have no idea, and Caroline would be unable to explain, why the bouquet had her stomach in knots. Her witch friends would be horrified, would probably begin making plans to smuggle her out of the country, if they caught a whiff of Klaus’ interest in her.

Caroline lets her mind wander that path. Should she run? It’s possible, Caroline knows. She can easily hide from tracking spells, knows a few witches who use the life prolonging herbs, necessitating falsifying things like driver’s licenses and passports. A new identity wouldn’t be hard to procure, if she asked the right people. And she had always wanted to see the world. There’s a risk that he’d find her, hurt her, hurt her friends and family, and she tells herself that’s the reason she’s hesitating.

But then it’s entirely possible that he won’t even bother to follow, that he’ll forget about her in under a week. What’s a man who’s lived a thousand years going to find so fascinating with her? Would it be worth throwing away the life that she’s built, the plans that she has?

It’s a lie, and she knows it, even as she tries to convince herself. The way he’d looked at her had bordered on covetous, and she knows, as sure as she's ever been about anything, that if she ran he’d only chase her. He's a predator, after all. Likely to enjoy the hunt.

Caroline lets out a groan, dropping her head to rest on a pile of books. She’s not really the type to wish she’d just stayed in bed, but then she’d never had a day that veered quite so sharply in an unexpected and alarming direction.

She’s seriously never been quite so tempted to dip into the stash of gin Nana kept in the desk.

 

* * *

 

The next day, after a sleepless night, Caroline drags herself out of bed early, thinking that she might as well head to the shop and at least be a responsible, productive, business owner. She hates purchase orders but they’ve got to get done. Approaching the shop she’s surprised, and a little alarmed, to see that the lights are already on. It’s not her day to open but Laura, one of her staff, isn’t scheduled to be there for another forty-five minutes. Caroline takes out her phone, ready to dial 9-1-1 (though she could totally take out anyone stupid enough to rob her shop with a little witchery, but that tends to invite unanswerable questions, so she'd only do so if threatened) and cautiously unlocks the door.

And promptly breathes a sigh of relief, upon seeing Laura behind the counter, wiping off her hands. The girl glances up, a bright smile on her face, “Hey, Caroline. I was just about to run these over to you.”

Caroline’s confused, “Um, what?”

“The flowers. They’re for you. New boyfriend?” Laura wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, “Naughty, naughty, keeping secrets! Is he cute?”

“Is there a card?” Caroline asks, still unsure of what Laura’s even talking about.

“Yep! Here,” Laura fishes out a pink envelope, and Caroline eyes the bouquet, understanding dawning. She hates it but she knows she’ll be running for the books at the first opportunity. Because she can’t not know. She likes the look of the arrangement immediately, the pretty explosion of yellows and purples (forsythias, bellflowers, and heartsease, this time) and curses Klaus’ sense of aesthetics. It would be so much easier to dislike the guy if he, like some unfortunate men, thought carnations were the most romantic of gestures.

She recognizes Laura’s handwriting, though the girl seemingly has no idea what the note says. Caroline makes a mental note to push some vervain tea on her later. She’s not entirely sure how Klaus had set this up, but it won’t hurt to cover her bases. There’s a phone number, and a message, “Dinner, tonight? Anywhere you wish. I’d like to continue our conversation.”

Laura’s looking at her expectantly, and Caroline offers her a faint smile, “Why don’t you go grab some coffee? Maybe some muffins? My treat. I’ll handle cleaning this up and opening.”

Laura’s a college student, working and doing her best not to drown in student loans, so free food and coffee always grabs her attention. She’s grabs the cash Caroline offers and is out the door in a flash.

She grabs the shop’s phone (because providing Klaus with her cell number seemed like a bad idea) and dials the number before she can talk herself out of it.

It rings several times, and when he answers his voice is hoarse with sleep.

Caroline doesn’t bother with a hello, “Okay, ground rules. No compelling my friends or employees.”

He makes a delighted sound, and the rustling of fabric pretty much confirms that he’s still in bed. Which she definitely did not just picture, “Good morning, Caroline.”

“For you maybe. I almost had a heart attack when I thought my shop was being robbed."

"What happened to the woman who threatened to liquefy my brain?"

"Do you know what a mess that makes? I'd never have gotten that cleaned up before an employee or a customer got here."

"I do admire your practically."

Caroline scoffs, "Sure you do. But I repeat, no compelling. Or murdering, but that one really should go without saying."

“I did think about going to one of your competitors, love. They’re far more reasonably priced, did you know? But I didn’t think you’d appreciate it, which would have nullified the gesture."

He’s got her there and she has no reply.

“Did you like them?” he asks, sounding both curious and slightly smug, like he already knows the answer.

Caroline clears her throat, reaches out a hand to touch a petal, “They’re lovely,” she replies sincerely. “But then I wouldn’t stock anything inferior.”

He doesn't take offense to her slightly twisted gratitude, “Mmm. I did have you pegged as a bit of a perfectionist. Have you given any thought to my invitation?”

“Will you take no for an answer?” Caroline shoots back.

“I would, for now. But I’ve made arrangements to stay in Atlanta indefinitely so I can’t say I won’t continue trying.”

“You’re staying?” Caroline blurts out. “Why? Because...” she trails off, because she thinks she knows, and finds the idea equal parts amazing and nerve wracking. The covens aren’t going to be happy that his stay’s been extended. But she might be. A little. Deep, deep down, for some inexplicable reason.

“Because of you,” he confirms her unspoken thoughts quietly. “Will you let me take you out tonight?”

The fact that she wants to say yes is completely crazy to Caroline. She blames it on the hours she’d spent pouring over the family’s grimoires, the few accounts her ancestors had scribbled about what finding their soulmates had been like. The words they’d used had been effusive as they’d described a connection unlike any she’d ever experienced. Their elation, and euphoria, scribbled clear across worn pages. And even though she knows she shouldn’t Caroline wants to feel that, wants just a taste.

And there’s only one way she ever can. And taking a leap, accepting his invitation, is the only way she ever will.

And that’s why she says yes, why she tells Klaus to come by the shop when she’s off at six. She can tell he’s surprised, by her agreement, can hear the smile in his voice when he says goodbye. She expects to feel panic, when she sets the phone back down, guilt at the very least. But there’s none of that. Just nerves, the good kind, making her want to fidget, making her want to glance at the clock and calculate the minutes.

And she knows she’ll end up doing it, knows she’ll probably rush home on her lunch break and frantically try on outfits.

But first, it’s back to her Nana’s dusty books because she just has to know what the flowers mean.

 

* * *

 

Klaus arrives early, because he’s got flowers to purchase, and a gentleman never keeps a lady waiting, or so he’s been told. Caroline is busy with another customer when he enters. A skinny teen, who’d apparently made some sort of relationship faux pas, is flailing his hands anxiously as she arranges flowers (red roses, how trite). Caroline seems to be listening patiently, offering advice, and Klaus honestly does not understand how she manages it.

He manages to catch her eye, for a moment. Caroline nods, holds up a finger to indicate she’ll be a minute or two. Klaus makes a circuit of the small shop, studies the flowers on display. Considers his options.

Reflects that his life has taken a rather odd turn in the last twenty four hours.

He’d not expected to be going out on a first date, of all things, when he’d left New Orleans. Had been floored that Caroline had accepted his invitation that morning. He’d gone to bed strategizing and had formulated plans and backup plans. He’d expected it to take at least a few days, if not a few weeks, before she’d viewed him with anything but the most guarded of suspicion. Her agreeing to dinner had thrown Klaus. He’d wanted to ask for confirmation, an ‘are you sure?’ on the tip of his tongue. But he had bitten it back, unwilling to risk Caroline changing her mind. He’d tried to go back to sleep that morning, after their brief conversation, but he’d found it impossible. He’d been at a loss for what to do with the hours that stretched before him, as his plan, to terrorize the Atlanta witch population, until he’d gotten what he’d come for, has been put on hold while he sorts out this soulmate business.

He has a sneaking suspicion that he’s in a little deeper than he wants to be. Caroline Forbes had flitted through all of his dreams, in situations both innocent and racy. He’d not touched her yesterday, and Klaus can’t wait to find out if her skin in as soft as he’s imagined. What her voice will sound like, when she’s in the throes of pleasurable abandon.

But the more salacious thoughts are not the problem. It’s the fact that he wants to hear her laugh, wants to make her laugh, that has Klaus worried.

He’s derided his siblings need for romantic love for centuries, has scoffed at the idea that it’s even possible for creatures such as them. They’d been nearly as alarmed as he’d been, when words had mysteriously appeared on his skin. But then, when the reason behind their appearance had become clear, his younger siblings had reacted with varying degrees of scorn and amusement. Rebekah had been spiteful, and angry, had scoffed that there was someone out there unlucky enough to be fated for him. Kol had thought it the best sort of karma, that Klaus would one day be reduced to a lovesick fool. Klaus had maintained that was an impossibility, and he dearly hoped he’d not have to eat those words now.

Refusing to dwell on such thoughts, Klaus had dragged himself out of bed and called down for breakfast and coffee. He’d snacked on the room service attendant, and then sat down to eat and check his email.

Elijah’s contact had worked even more quickly than promised, and an email composed of everything he’d compiled about Caroline Forbes’ life had been waiting for Klaus.

Opening it is another shock, because right at the beginning of the file, is her birth certificate proclaiming that she’d been born in Mystic Falls, Virginia. He’d almost wanted to laugh, because of course she’d been born in the town where he and his siblings had lived and died, and become monsters. He’d even met her mother, and when Klaus recalls the sheriff’s face, he sees the resemblance. Caroline’s the same age as the doppelganger, and the Bennett witch, Klaus had noted, and he’d wondered if she’d known them. Would she have been caught up in what happened, had she not moved away before he’d turned up to break his curse? Would they have been enemies?

It’s an intriguing notion, but not one Klaus wants to dwell on.

Because she’s here, now. And for whatever reason has agreed to dinner with him. Klaus glances over, to where she’s ringing up the boy she’d helped, notes the short skirt and the slightly heavier touch of makeup. He’s struck again by how beautiful she is, and bits of the more erotic dreams he’d had flit through his mind.

He manages to force them away when hears the click of high heels approaching and he turns to greet her. She offers him a shy smile, “Ready to go?”

“Not quite, love. I’d planned on making a purchase,” Klaus tells her conspiratorially, “One has to set the bar high, on a first date.”

“Oh, you do a lot of dating, do you?”

The sarcasm is clear, and she’s absolutely right. Klaus can’t even remember the last time he’d attempted something like this. It’s rarely necessary, with people who know who he is. And people who don’t rarely last more than a night or two, so the niceties are hardly necessary.

She smirks, pleased with herself, “That’s what I thought. And I think you’ve bought me enough flowers in the last twenty four hours, don’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s a very smart thing for you to say, love. Not in your line of work.”

She rolls her eyes, and takes his offered arm, and throws a wave over her shoulder as they exit the shop. Klaus is very aware of the two layers of fabric that separate their skin. He wears a jacket habitually, but regrets it, at the moment. “Maybe I just don’t want to be driven nuts by your super-secret flower messages all night.”

“I was going to go with a hibiscus, this time. In honor of your beauty.”

She looks down, fighting a smile, though her tone remains arch, “I’ll forgive you for being cheesy, since you’re super old. Speaking of, are there any food issues I should know about? Can you handle spicy? Or are you a pot roast and boiled peas kind of guy?”

She’s feigning seriousness, but her eyes are sparkling, as she teases him, and Klaus enjoys the look of her, finds himself bantering back easily, “I’m not picky, love, food not being altogether necessary, you know.”

It’s a reminder, one he makes purposefully. Klaus doesn’t want her to forget who and what he is, doesn’t want her to be able to pretend this is just a date, that he’s just a man with a casual interest in an attractive woman. This is more than that, they’re connected, and he’s not willing to be easily brushed off, should she change her mind.

She throws him a speculative glance, “You know, I don’t know that I’ve ever met a vampire before. I think my mind goes to Twilight, that whole cold and hard and sparkly deal.”

“Does it bother you?” he asks, genuinely curious. “What I am?”

“That’s kind of a loaded question,” Caroline answers, and then she seems to choose her words carefully. “I know witches usually hate vampires, but I don’t think I do, not all of them, anyway. Maybe it’s because I didn’t grow up hearing all about how evil they were. My mom tried to keep things normal at our house. I was born a witch, you were made a vampire, and no one asked either of us if we wanted that, right? And it’s a wee bit hypocritical, since a witch created vampires to begin with, isn’t it? If it’s possible for witches to have that kind of power, then maybe we’re the bad guys.”

Klaus nods, surprised and cautiously pleased.

“So I’m not exactly a kill all the vampires kind of witch,” she continues, eyes straight ahead. “It think it bothers me more that you’re _you_ , than that you happen to be a vampire and a werewolf. I hope that makes sense. I know that’s super rude to say but…”

Her words quicken, as she goes on, her fingers on his arm twitching nervously, so Klaus interrupts, halting in the middle of the sidewalk, “No, I understand. Thank you for your honesty.” Klaus waits for her to look at him, “I want it, always. I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Caroline.” It’s not something Klaus has ever said before, not something he’s ever really felt. He enjoys being feared, encourages it, whenever he can. But it’s different, with her. He knows that he could make her fear him, could bind her to him with threats and manipulation. But she’d chosen to let him in, though she’s still wary. She’s joking, flirting a little, but her eyes remain guarded and watchful, like she’s waiting for him to turn on her, to live up to the stories she’d been told. Klaus doesn’t think he can, despite only knowing her a day. He wants to melt the reservations, and for her to choose him, and them, and what they could be.

She tips her head to the side, studying him for a long moment, “I’m not. Afraid of you. That’s probably crazy, after everything I heard last night, the things they said you’ve done.”

He could lie, soften the truth, at the very least, but Klaus finds he does not want to. He meets her eyes when he speaks, watches her absorb his words, “I’ve lived for more than a thousand years, love. I’m sure the stories you heard were barely a taste of the things I’ve done. There are few actions I’m sorry for, fewer still that I’d change. I have kept my family safe. Wealth, power, influence. I have it all.”

“Do you?” Caroline asks, more knowing than her handful of years should allow her to be, “Do you really have it all? Because I don’t think we’d be here if you really thought that, if you were totally happy with your life. You would have tried to kill me, the second I said the words.”

“I thought about it,” Klaus admits. “About killing you and removing the complication you represented.”

“Um, I said try for a reason, Klaus.” It’s derisive, and he feels the touch of her power, the weight of it, all around him, like the atmosphere before a lightning storm, for a moment before it’s gone. “I wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. They say you’re hard to kill but I would have made a damn good effort.”

“Perhaps I sensed that, and that’s why I decided that you were far too interesting to die. But I think you’re talking about yourself here, just a bit. If you were content, would you be here, with me?”

Her eyes narrow, and she steps closer, pulling up the bottom of her shirt, until he can see the words printed on her body, stark against the paleness of her skin. He reaches out, without thinking, draws his finger along them. Caroline inhales sharply at his touch, “I’ve looked at those words every single day. Maybe I’m an idiot, but they mean something to me. Finding out I was a witch changed my life. It’s not something I chose, but when I found out, when I started learning how to control it, something clicked and I felt whole and calm and just… right, you know?”

“I do,” Klaus tells her, firm and emphatic. Because unlocking his werewolf side had been like that, an easing of the subtle wrongness he’d always felt, of the anger and frustration that he’d never been able to let go of no matter how much he fought or killed.

“So I didn’t chose you either. And I honestly don’t know how this whole soulmate thing works. Are there old ladies somewhere, pulling the strings? Some kind of god, or gods and goddesses? Why are you the one for me? Maybe it’ll be a disaster. But I feel like I have to try or I’ll always regret it. I’ll would always think of the what ifs. So we’re going to go to dinner. You’re going to tell me about the things you like to do that don’t involve bloodshed or blackmail. You’re going to laugh at my jokes, because I’m hilarious and you want to get into my pants.”

Klaus shakes his head, marveling at her abrupt switch to lightness, but grateful for it too, “That’s awfully presumptuous of you, don’t you think?”

“Oh please, there’s a reason you’re still touching me.” He follows her pointed glance down, to where his palm has curled around her side, his thumb absently stroking over her soulmate mark.

“I like to paint,” Klaus tells her, dropping his hand, and letting her top cover her again, “I enjoy travelling. And I’m quite sure I could make a remark about how you’re not actually wearing pants, but I assume that wouldn’t go over well?”

“And he’s a quick learner!” Caroline exclaims, bumping into his side as they resume walking, “I can work with that.”

 

* * *

 

“And this is it,” Caroline says, turning to face Klaus on the front porch of the house she lives in, a few blocks from her shop. She’s nervous, all of a sudden, the reality of what usually happens at the end of a first date making her palms sweaty. The evening had gone surprisingly well, once that awkward first conversation had been out of the way. Klaus is smart, and charming, and full of fascinating stories. She’s still leery, doesn’t know if that will ever pass. But what does she know about living a thousand years? About enemies, the kind that aim to kill? How can she judge the things he’d done before she’d known him, before she’d even been born?

He’s eyeing the house curiously, and he smiles when he catches sight of the window boxes. “Begonias. Interesting.”

“They just grow well in the shade,” Caroline replies. “No hidden meaning.” She hesitates, about inviting him in. Because once she’s done it, there’s no way of undoing it. She compromises, gesturing to the porch swing, “Do you want to sit? I think I have wine.”

He sits, and Caroline takes that to mean he’ll stay for a bit, and she likes that he’s reluctant to end the evening. She bustles into the house, kicking off her heels by the door, before grabbing glasses and a bottle of red wine from her cupboard.

“This was a house warming present, so I have no idea if it’s good or not,” she warns him, handing him a glass and curling up next to him on the seat, “I’m more of a cocktail kind of girl.”

He takes a sip, and Caroline studies him closely, looking for a hint of a grimace but he’s perfectly neutral, “It’s fine, sweetheart. Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?” Caroline begins, because something’s been bugging her all day, and there’s no way she’ll sleep with it hanging over her.

“Always,” Klaus responds, turning slightly towards her.

“Why’d you come into my shop yesterday?”

He doesn’t answer right away, staring into the wineglass. “What do you know about my family?” Klaus asks eventually.

Caroline really hopes this answering a question with a question thing isn’t a habit of his. Because that would be annoying. Still, she gives it some thought. “Not a whole lot. You have a sister, I think? A couple of brothers.”

“One older brother, and one younger, Kol. Who currently occupies a host body. That’s what I’d come to see you about. I’ve promised to restore him, and I’ve been working on it. That’s what led me to Atlanta.”

“I don’t get it,” Caroline tells him, puzzled.

“My younger brother, Kol, was killed, several years ago. Then our mother brought him back, in the body of a witch. We want to return him, to his proper body, but it was badly damaged, when he died. An ancestor of yours had a bit of an interest in healing magic, was said to have collected volumes that might be of use to us. Your grandmother should have all of the Forbes’ family books, at least the magical ones, but obviously she’s not available. So I sought you out.”

Caroline recoils, moves to stand, but Klaus’ voice stops her.

“Caroline, wait. If I was using you, would I have told you the truth, just now?” He’s speaking softly, not attempting to close the distance she’d put between them.

“I’m not sure. I’m not all that experienced with supernatural power plays.”

“I am. I’ve mastered the art of subterfuge, love. A few more evenings like this, and you would have invited me into your home, your bed, even. I could have made you trust me. I could have taken what I wanted then. I wouldn’t have even needed to resort to my usual methods.”

Caroline takes a big gulp of wine, “And let me guess, your usual methods would have been to threaten me into doing your bidding?”

“Mmm. I’d probably have tried coaxing, before threatening, once I’d met you. You’re beautiful, and I’ve had luck with young witches before. Been their walk on the wild side, you see.”

Caroline can’t help but wrinkle her nose in distaste, “Yeah, I know you’re not really a big dater but mentioning your humongous pile of ex conquests is kind of a no no.”

Klaus reaches for her wine glass, sets it aside with his, chuckling softly, as he takes her hand, and murmurs, “But things went down an entirely different path, than the one I had planned. And normally I’d be furious, because I dislike such deviations, but I can’t be, can’t resent the opportunity to know you, Caroline. I want the books, and I want you to help me. And perhaps it’s greed, but I want you to do those things because you want to, not because I’ve tricked you.”

He’s tracing the lines on her palm, so lightly that she thinks she feels the heat of him, rather than any actual pressure. It’s surprisingly distracting, and goosebumps crawl up her arm. “Can I see your mark?” she blurts out, and resists the urge to smack herself. Because she hadn’t wanted to invite him into her house, and then a few minutes later, she’s asking him to strip? She’s totally blaming that one on how his touch had scrambled her thoughts.

But he’s lifting his shirt over his head and discarding it, before she can even think to stammer out a ‘never mind!’ and turning so she can see his back. And she lets out a tiny, amused snort, quickly smothering it in her hand. He glances back, a questioning look on his face. “I’m sorry. It’s just ‘Do you want your brain liquefied?’ I can’t believe that was the first thing I said to you. I imagine people think it’s weird, but you’re probably not really a beach guy. I’ve never really let anyone see mine, too many questions and it’s easy enough to hide with a spell. But you don’t have that option.”

Klaus had twisted his head further, his eyes gleaming with interest, maybe a touch of satisfaction, and Caroline has to fight not to scoff. She’s so not willing to deal with any weirdo possessiveness, ancient werepire or not. “It sort of looks like my handwriting,” she notes, reaching out a hand to trace the letters. He stiffens, and then relaxes, and she does it again. There’s a tattoo of a triangle, on the other shoulder, and she traces it too, notes the differences in texture.

His voice is deeper, when he speaks again, “And yours resembles mine.”

“So weird,” Caroline breathes. Before she shakes herself, and moves slightly away from him.

He turns, and Caroline resolutely stares at his face, not letting her eyes track downwards even though she’d dying to study the necklaces (and him, obviously) that he wears. A slow smirk slides across his face, “You can look, Caroline. I don’t mind. I want you to.”

“On the first date? Should have figured you’d be the type to put out,” her joke is weak, but he laughs anyway, finally reaching for his shirt, and tugging it back on.

“Yes, well, I do believe there will be a second, so I should bid you goodnight, before you find yourself unable to resist tearing my clothes off and having your way with me.”

Caroline rolls her eyes, even as she’s wondering about the sturdiness of the swing, “You wish.”

“I do,” he responds quickly, eyes warm and desirous, “I’ve rarely wished for anything more fervently. But I don’t think you’re quite ready for that. Soon, I think.”

The last was said, almost to himself, and Caroline can’t help but agree silently. She thinks she knows what the long dead Forbes’ were talking about, when they spoke of their soulmates. She’s barely touched him, and nowhere even remotely naughty, but her body craves more of his. She wants to run her fingers over more of his skin, wants to taste him, too. Wants to listen to his heart beat faster and faster as she does it.

She thinks she’s blushing, a little when she stands to say goodnight. He presses his lips, to her warm cheek, says “Goodnight, Caroline,” purring out her name in a way that’s just not fair.

She’s pretty sure she stutters out a goodnight in response, and then he’s gone, leaving her alone on her porch, overly warm and confused.

Because seriously, no kiss? Clearly she’d been right about the lack of actual dates in Klaus’ past.

 

* * *

 

There’s another bouquet, waiting for her, bright and early, on the swing where she and Klaus had ended the evening. Caroline glances around suspiciously, because they look as though they haven’t been there long, and she hadn’t heard a single creak to indicate someone had placed them there. But there’s no movement, in the vicinity. She has various protection spells, set up around her property, so someone with bad intentions wouldn’t have been able to breach them, without getting fried. She wonders if Klaus had dropped the flowers off himself (azaleas and zinnias, this time) or if that was the sort of thing he thought beneath him.

There’s a card, the writing familiar.

_Thank you for a wonderful evening, Caroline. I hope to do it again soon._

She actually hums, on her way to work, smiles like an idiot, throughout the morning. Her thoughts keep drifting to Klaus and the time they’d spent together. She hears Laura mutter, not quite quietly enough, that the new boyfriend must be something, under the sheets.

She scurries away, at the glare Caroline sends her, and it effectively tones down Caroline’s beaming. Because the reminder that she’d been left with a dry cheek kiss? Sobering.  

And then her father calls.

They chat for a bit, about a business trip Bill’s just returned from, about her stepsister’s new boyfriend, and firm up plans for their monthly dinner. She’s reluctant to say goodbye, trying to build herself up, to ask her father the question that’s been brewing. Words on worn pages are one thing, but her father’s the only person she knows with real life experience, with finding his soulmate. Caroline knows what she wants to do, but is it what she should do? It’s a simple thing, that she wants to know, but it’s not something she can take back, once it’s out there. Bill tries to end the call, but Caroline interrupts, and the quavering way she says, “Dad?” betrays all of her anxiousness.

“Yes, honey?” Bill asks, alert.

“Can I ask you something? And I just want you to answer, yes or no. And I’ll explain, eventually, I promise. But I just need to know something.”

“Of course, Caroline.”

Caroline clutches the phone, so hard her knuckles ache, and takes a deep breath, “If you knew that Steven wasn’t a good man, knew that he’d done terrible things, would you still be with him?”

“Caroline, if someone’s threatening you…”

“No,” Caroline hastens to assure her father, “no, nothing like that, Dad. And come on, we both know I can kick ass, all by myself. Just answer the question. Please.”

There’s a long silence, and Caroline listens, trying to be patient, “I think I would, Caroline. Maybe it’s wrong, but…”

“But it’s not wrong for you,” Caroline finishes, letting out a short laugh. “Thanks, dad. I needed to hear that.”

“Glad I could help. And I’ll hold you to that explanation, young lady.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll bring booze.”

“And this boy?” her father asks, “Will you bring him too?”

Ugh. Of course he’d picked up on that. “Um, probably not. We’ll work up to that. And I wouldn’t call him a ‘boy’ exactly,” she cuts her father off, before he can ask more questions, “thanks, Dad! Love you, bye!”

Caroline fights a wince as she hangs up. She’s definitely going to be hearing about that. But her father’s answer is exactly the push she’d needed. She’s been almost there, nearly ready to shove her reservations into a box and embrace the crazy that would surely come with this whole soulmate business.

And she imagines her dad will want to take back his words, when he finds out who Caroline’s soulmate is. But it’s too late. She’s going for it.

 

* * *

 

She’s texted him, shortly after hanging up with her dad, asking if that evening would be ‘soon’ enough for him. Klaus had immediately replied in the affirmative, she’d told him to pick her up at eight, not mentioning that they wouldn’t be going out, if she got her way.

She’s been pacing the porch, since just after 7:30, too full of anticipation to risk staying confined indoors. She stops, when his SUV pulls up, takes a deep calming breath, and watches him amble up the front path, a small smile playing on his lips. Her feet bare, she’s dressed more simply than she’d been last night. She’s right on the top step, and as he climbs she stands her ground, and there’s barely any space between them, once they’re on the same level. Her eyes drop to his lips, and then she meets his eyes, reads the surprise there. He’s just about to speak, but she doesn’t let him, closing the distance between them, taking his bottom lip between hers.

He makes a low noise, rocks back on his feet, and it’s probably only his hybridness that keeps them from a nasty fall down her steps. But he’s got a hand in her hair, and an arm around her back, as soon as he steadies them, urging her mouth open, and trying to take over. She lets him, for a moment, because he’s clearly learned a thing or two in all of his centuries on earth. The teasing parries, and hot strokes of his tongue have her clutching at his shoulders. He remembers that she needs to breathe before she does, and he’s moving down, the scrape of stubble and the softness of his lips making her toes curl, as he seeks out all the sensitive parts of her throat.

She slides one hand under his shirt, stroking the taut skin of his abdomen, that she hadn’t even allowed herself to look at last night, and threads the other in his dark blonde curls. She tugs, trying to pull him away, but Klaus resists, and she pulls harder (because she has a perfectly good bed inside, and despite her brief fantasies last night there are some places she doesn’t want splinters) he lets out a noise, a growl, as much as it’s a moan, and his hips press forward into hers, his arms tightening around her.

“Klaus,” she manages, her voice low and breathless, as she issues the invitation, “come inside.”

He pulls back at that, watching her intently, “Caroline, if I come inside…”

“Sex will happen? Yeah, kind of the point.”

She’d sort of expected more action, but he’s hesitating. Caroline tosses her hair back, runs her nails lightly down his stomach, thrilled by the way his eyes darken and the harsh way he swallows. She leans into him, brushes her lips over his throat, making her way to his ear, “Fun facts about me: I’m very decisive. And a doer. I make a decision, and then I make things happen. I’ve decided that I’m in, wherever this soulmate thing takes me. And I want you, Klaus. Now.” Caroline waves her hand, and the door creaks open behind them. Klaus’ eyes flit to it, and then back to her, and then his hand drops, and he grabs her ass, lifting her abruptly with one arm.

Caroline squeaks, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips, grabbing at his skin for balance, she feels the air whip around her, and then she’s in the middle of her living room. He uses his hand in her hair, to pull her mouth back to his, kissing her deeply, “Where’s your bedroom?” he demands roughly, when he tears his mouth away.

Another wave of her hand, and he’s darting in the correct direction, a little slower but still faster than she could have managed. She’s laughing, when he sets her on the bed, and she raises herself up on her elbows, edging backwards until she’s lying on the pillows. “I’m suddenly seeing the perks to being with a vampire."

He hovers over her on his elbows, brushing her hair out of her face, and she’d describe the look on his face as wonder, if she really had to. But then he’s kissing her throat again, and she moves her head with a sigh to give him more room. She feels him smirk against her, fights a shiver at the dark promise he makes into her skin, “Just wait, love. The perks have just begun.”

He pulls back, gets to his knees, and slides his hands down her sides, torturously slow, slipping them just under her top, as he surveys her beneath him. He strokes her sides, gently, not moving to take her shirt off, until she’s squirming beneath him. She makes an impatient huff, when his touch dances along the bottom band of her bra, before his hands move away again, and snipes, “Is this what you call perks? Cause this isn’t what I’d call perks.”

He shakes his head, wets his lips, “Patience, Caroline. I promise it will be worth it.”

She narrows her eyes at him, tries to stop shifting restlessly to chase his touch, “You could at least take your shirt off. Give me something pretty to look at.”

Klaus grins, and she expects him to tease her, but he merely strips his grey Henley off obligingly. Her eyes are greedy, taking in the smooth skin and lean muscles. She’s not looked her fill, and then he’s ducking his head, kissing her stomach. Caroline sucks in a surprised breath, and his eyes meet hers and hold, as he moves up, exploring her torso, tasting her skin and paying special attention to the mark, before his hands are gliding up her ribcage, taking her shirt with them. She pulls it off the rest of the way, tossing it aside. Klaus kisses her sternum, the slope of her breast, before he finds her nipple, straining behind the lace of her bra. He scrapes his teeth over the peak, his fingers toying with the other, and Caroline arches up with a moan.

He pulls back, his expression smug, and Caroline gasps out, “I swear, if you say something about perks right now…”

Klaus shakes his head, and tugs her up, undoing the clasp of her bra and stripping it away. And then his mouth is on her skin, sucking and teasing, and she’s got a hand curled in his hair, urging him on.

She whines out a protest when he pulls back, but it stills when his hands go to the button on her jeans. She reaches down to help him, lifting her hips, and kicking the fabric aside. But then he slows, goes back to the infuriatingly gentle brushes, almost as if he’s memorizing her skin. He strokes her inner thighs, but skirts where she really wants him to touch her, and with a groan of frustration she sits up, and pushes him back. He goes, grasping her hips when she climbs over him. Caroline grabs one of his hands, and presses it to her damp panties, throwing her head back when their joined hands brush her clit, “Stop teasing me,” she all but growls the order, "and touch me already.”

He frees his hand, and tears her underwear away like it’s tissue, one finger slipping easily inside of her, “Like this?” he asks lowly, and Caroline nods, rocking her hips with his movements, moaning when he adds a second finger, hooking them inside of her and rubbing, just when he rolls his thumb over her clit.

She pants his name, her eyes falling shut as her thighs start to shake. He slows, makes a dissatisfied noise, “Eyes open, love. You’re gorgeous, Caroline, taking pleasure from my hands. I want to see you. And this is just the beginning.”

She forces her eyes open, shudders at the hungry, rapt way he’s looking at her, “I’m close,” she moans, “more.” It’s equal parts demand and plea, as her body strains against his for release. Klaus’ free hand slides up to cup her breast, and thumbs her nipple, just as the fingers buried inside of her speed up. Caroline tenses, as it builds, and when she comes his name is on her lips.

He gives her no time to recover, laying back on the bed and hauling her up until she’s spread over his mouth. Caroline falls forward, catching herself. She curses as he licks her folds, her hands scrambling for purchase on the bedsheets. “Klaus, oh. Fuck. Please.”

He groans against her in response, his mouth on her clit, building her to another peak with rapid flicks of his tongue. She’s shaking, with the aftershocks and with the need for more, lips pressed together to keep from shouting. Her hips twitch, and she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get closer, or get away, the sensation almost too much. She comes again, hard, burying the sounds she makes in her arm.

Caroline slumps against the bed as Klaus rolls out from under her, lying down on his side, running a soothing hand down her back. She’s almost embarrassed, by how out of it she is, her limbs lax. She registers a roughness against her legs, turns her head and says, her voice rising in disbelief, “How are you still wearing pants?”

Klaus muffles a laugh by kissing her shoulder, “We have plenty of time, Caroline. Rest a bit.”

Nope. Screw that. If he thought he could lord his vampire stamina over her as a ‘perk’ he had another thing coming. Caroline flips onto her side, her determination fueling her, “I don’t have super strength, but…” she concentrates, manages to break his belt.

Klaus lifts an amused brow, “Impressive,” he drawls.

She’s not sure she appreciates the amusement, so with another burst of power she throws him onto his back, pinning him for a moment with magic when he reaches for her. He’s not a fan of that, she can tell from the way his jaw clenches. So she lets up, swinging a leg over his thighs. Perhaps later, when he trusts her more, they can have a little fun with _her_ abilities.

He helps her pull his jeans and boxer briefs off. Caroline tosses him a mischievous smirk of her own, dipping low and pressing her mouth to his chest, just over his heart. She gives him a little taste of his own medicine, moving glacier slow, cataloguing his indrawn breaths and the places that make him tense. He watches her avidly, fingers twitching. She thinks he’s just barely holding back from taking over, decides that deserves a bit of a reward. He groans when she pulls away and again, more harshly when she wraps a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times.

She thinks about finishing him with her hand, then with her mouth, but she likes these sheets and from the way his hand is grasping them, she doesn’t trust him not to rip them to shreds. Plus, she’s way too impatient. Teasing him has left her soaked and ready, and she wants to feel him inside of her.

She crawls forward, and Klaus sits up, as she settles over him, holding her hips as she positions the tip of him at her entrance. She arches her back as she sinks down, and Klaus’ grip on her tightens, and it’s almost painful by the time her hips are pressed to his. Caroline shifts against him, grabbing his wrists, and he relaxes his hold immediately. “It’s fine,” she breathes, sliding her hands up his arms, as she starts to rock her hips, digging her nails into his shoulders when he begins meeting her motions.

Caroline leans back, chasing that perfect angle, lets out a moan when she finds it. His hands support her back, his mouth latching onto her nipple and Caroline begins to move faster. And then it’s all friction and panting breaths, skin sliding together and needy noises. He reacts so perfectly, reading her body, speeding up when she needs it, his hands finding everywhere she loves to be touched. She’s close to another orgasm, and he seems to know it, his fingertips leaving the back of her knee, and climbing agonizingly slowly up her thigh. He touches her clit, a few strokes and she’s done, back bowing as she rides it out. He follows with a groan, clutching her closer as he pumps into her desperately.

She presses her sweaty forehead against his shoulder, listens to the pounding of their heartbeats. Klaus plays with her hair, nuzzling into her neck.

She’s drowsy and content, but is jolted when she feels him hardening, once again, against her thigh. She lets out a breathless laugh, “I guess you weren’t kidding about perks, huh?”

Klaus shrugs, moving her head slightly, “I’m afraid I can’t help it, with all of you pressed against me like this.”

Caroline pulls away slightly, gropes behind her for a pillow, “You’re going to have to do all the work this time. My thighs are burning like I’ve just been to spin class.” She turns, laying down on her front, propping her hips up on a pillow, and folding her hands under her head. She glances back at Klaus, who’s staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, parts her legs invitingly as she stretches, “Well? Just make it good.”

“Gladly,” Klaus replies hoarsely, pressing a kiss to the base of her spine.

 

* * *

 

When she wakes, there’s bright light streaming in through her windows, and Caroline feels like she’s being watched. She panics, for a second, and then an arm wraps around her, and pulls her back into a firm chest. She calms, because the body is familiar and the touch soothing, despite the fact that it’s so new. She feels the roughness of his unshaven face, on the nape of her neck. Savors the first sound of his voice, a soft, sleepy rumble. “Good morning,” he says, twining his fingers with hers.

Caroline clears her throat, “Morning. Any plans, for today?”

“Mmm. No,” he hums, lips against her skin. “Do you need to work? Because I’d rather thought we’d stay in bed.”

“I’m going to need food, at some point,” she reminds him.

“You can eat naked, can you not?”

Caroline elbows him, and he grunts, though she’s pretty sure he’d faked it. She turns over, nestles her head on his chest. “I thought maybe I’d run over to my Nana’s place. I’ll grab her books and we can start looking for the spells you need. For your brother.”

Klaus stills underneath her, and she peeks up at him. He’s looking down at her, eyes wide and bright. It’s the most unguarded she’s ever seen him, gratitude and astonishment, and a little hint of joy painted clearly across his face. It’s something she wants to see more of. He smiles, before replying, “I’d like that. But it can wait, a day or two.”

Caroline nods against him, perfectly fine with living in a little bubble of just them, and this brand new connection between them. There’s still so much they need to discuss, so many things that need to be decided. But she feels it, deep in her bones, that this, him, was the right choice for her, and always would be.

**Author's Note:**

> The flowers:
> 
> Helios (orange) roses: Fascination.  
> Freesias: Innocence and friendship.  
> Ferns: Magic, fascination, confidence and shelter, sincerity.
> 
> Forsythias: Anticipation.  
> Bellflowers: Constancy, gratitude, I wish to speak to you.  
> Heartsease: Modesty, pleasant thoughts, think of me.
> 
> Hibiscus: Delicate beauty.
> 
> Begonias: Beware.
> 
> Azaleas: Moderation, temperance, fragile passion, your blush has won me.  
> Zinnias (magenta): Lasting Affection


End file.
